


Walk This Way

by Slybrarian



Series: Strange Aeon [7]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Lovecraft, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2010-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short fics to fill in the gaps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Adam Stackhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This segment follows "Shadows Over Atlantis".

Adam Stackhouse is a Marine.

He joined the Corps straight out of high school, but at heart he was a Marine long before that, following his father from one posting to another for his entire life. He quickly rose through the ranks, hitting each promotion the instant he was eligible and earning other commendations along the way. At twenty-five, he was inducted into Delta Green and started fighting things more dangerous than mere humans; at twenty-eight he joined Stargate Command and took that fight to the stars. Two months ago, he volunteered for the Atlantis Expedition on a one-way trip to another galaxy. He did it for the challenge, the adventure, and the chance to be part of something that just might save the world.

For his trouble, a shoggoth ate his left foot.

This isn't the first time he's been injured. He's suffered through broken bones, minor shrapnel wounds, and a bullet through his arm. He took a staff blast to the gut once and only lived to tell about it because Apocatequil had thought he might be a useful source of information and dumped in a sarcophagus. Adam came through that experience more or less intact, with nothing to show for it but the occasional nightmare and a membership card to one of the SGC's more exclusive unofficial clubs. If he could deal with that, he can deal with his current situation.

He's out of his infirmary bed as soon as he can convince Doctor Lam to let him up. He's lucky compared to most amputees; other than the obvious there's no injuries to slow him down. As it turns out, all that means is that he gets to fall on his face a few weeks earlier than he might have otherwise, when he decides he needs to take a piss and tries to walk to the restroom without any help.

"Okay, maybe I still need the crutches," he says to Lam, Mitchell, and Markham, who are all looking down at him with varying degrees of concern, amusement, and annoyance.

Intellectually Adam had known that a prosthetic wouldn't be the same as his real foot, but that's a different thing than actually walking on it. His balance is shot to hell, his stump gets sore after only a few minutes, and there's times he would swear that he can still feel his foot. For the first few days he's only allowed to put weight on his foot for short periods, and when he does he stumbles frequently. It's only because Markham is his constant shadow that he doesn't land on his ass a half-dozen times just walking around the mess. There's a few times when he thinks that he's never going to be able to do more than limp around the city and that he'll be a burden on the unit. But slowly he starts to get the hang of it, and Colonel Mitchell says that he'll be kicking ass again in no time. Adam thinks he's right. After all, if a flyboy like Mitchell can recover from near-crippling injuries, surely he can do the same.

Adam Stackhouse is a Marine, and he is not going to let something so minor as a missing foot slow him down.


	2. Carolyn Lam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This segment follows the main fic "Terminus". You should probably go read that first.

"You know what's weird, doc?" Stackhouse asked while laying pantless on an examination bed.

"That we're living in a city the predates the evolution of mankind by five million years," Carolyn replied she watched the Ancient medical scanner pass back and forth over his legs. The sleek metal-and-polycarbon prosthetic left foot stood out beside the natural flesh of his right leg. The designers hadn't even tried to make it look real, but it had a certain rugged elegance and thanks to its advanced materials it was all but indestructible, quite unlike the original.

"Besides that," Stackhouse said.

"Staff Sergeant, there are so many weird things that I've seen today alone that we could sit here for a week and I'd still be guessing."

He chuckled. "Yeah, you've got a point there. What's weird is that I don't feel anything. I mean, you hear amputees talk all the time about how they can feel pain or itches in their missing limbs, but I don't feel a thing."

Carolyn glanced away from the scanner's screen. "You don't feel the foot, or you don't feel anything in the lower leg at all?"

"Just the foot. Believe me, I noticed when it got sore last week."

"It wouldn't have gotten sore if you'd followed my advice," Carolyn reminded him. Stackhouse had been eager to get back on his feet as soon as possible and pushed at her restrictions every chance he got. Personally she couldn't blame him for wanting to get back to what passed for normality, especially since the duty restrictions meant he had to delegate so much of his work as platoon sergeant; professionally, there were times when she wanted to pull the prosthetic off and hit him over the head with it just so that he'd pass out and stay in one place for a while.

"It's really not that weird," she continued. "People react differently to trauma. It varies a lot depending on the nature of the injury and several psychological and neurological factors that we don't fully understand. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"I'm not worried. I just thought I'd mention it." Stackhouse lifted his head and peered at the screen. "See anything interesting?"

"I see all sorts of things," Carolyn replied. "Too much, really. These scanners show an amazing amount of detail, but we don't have a clue what half of it is. Still, in the basic modes I can understand enough to tell you that you are remarkably healthy man, especially for someone who had a major injury so recently."

"What can I say, ma'am?" Stackhouse said with a cheeky grin. "Women have been telling me I've got an amazing body for a long time."

"I'm not surprised," Carolyn said. "After all, every mother thinks her son's handsome, no matter anyone else says."

"Ouch. Aren't you supposed to be keeping my spirits high after my horrible injury, not mocking me?"

"Mental health is Doctor Heightmeyer's job, not mine. I just watch after your physical wellbeing."

"Speaking of well-being: can I start doing my job again?"

Before Carolyn could reply, her chief of nursing, Izumi Nagano, appeared at the door of the examination ward. "Doctor Lam?" she said. "We just received a message from Colonel Mitchell's team. They're coming in with a medical emergency. They have a passenger with an arrow in his chest and probable punctured lung."

"An arrow?" Carolyn repeated. "Right, have the OR prepped and get the corpsmen to the jumper bay. Did they mention any other injuries?"

"No, ma'am."

"Well, that's a good sign, I suppose. Go on and get started." Carolyn turned back to Stackhouse. "Light duty means light duty, Staff Sergeant. No more than an hour on your feet at a time... but anything you can do from a wheelchair is fair game. You'd be a sad excuse for a sergeant if you couldn't keep your men in line from one anyways."

"Thank you, ma'am," Stackhouse said, swinging his legs off the bed and reaching for his pants.

"Don't do anything that would make be regret it, or I'll have you chained to a bed!" she called over her shoulder as she went to scrub.

"Yes, ma'am! Good luck!"

Carolyn hoped she wouldn't need it. This was Atlantis, though, so she would take any advantage she could get.


	3. Laura Cadman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadman and Stackhouse discuss the creativity of their platoon.

"There are times," Laura said, "that I suspect the zoomies may be on to something when they say that Marines are mentally deficient."

Beside her, Staff Sergeant Stackhouse nodded. "As much as I hate to admit it, ma'am, in this case I am forced to agree. This sort of thing is exactly why I needed to get back on duty as soon as possible."

They were standing in one of the unused rooms in their platoon's bunk area. They had two entire floors of the control tower to themselves, the result of Command's decision that they would treat Atlantis like a permanent base and give everyone their own rooms. The Ancients had been big fans of communal areas even for their short-term transient housing and so there were a bunch of lounges, balconies, and other public rooms of indeterminate purpose. The Ancients had also been big fans of completely nonsensical room arrangements, which meant there were a lot of fractal-branching corridors and spaces that you could only reach by stupidly convoluted routes. It made for plenty of hide-aways where you could stick things away from Command's prying eyes.

For example, this room could only be reached by passing through the weird mist-fountain-thing room to the balcony outside, walking up a set of stairs to the level above, going into the second door, and then opening the folding panels that make up one wall. It had a sink, power hookups, a stained-glass window that was prettier than most, and the gooey, charred remains of a half-exploded still.

"What I really don't get," Laura said, "is where they got all these parts. It's not like there's a lot of spare tubing and metal around here." They weren't thieves and anything from expedition stores would be missed anyways, and she was sure they wouldn't use bits and pieces of Ancient tech. They couldn't possibly be that dumb.

"Marines make due, ma'am," Stacks said. "I suspect shoddy materials might have something to do with the explodification. Talley's not usually this... sloppy."

As if to accentuate his words, a lump of something red and mushy drops from the ceiling and lands with a plop a few feet away. Laura poked at it with her boot. "Could be whatever the hell this is, too." She didn't know much about stills, but she imagined that something that resembles cherry-colored tar could gum up the works somehow. "I'm sure you knew nothing of this, Staff --"

Stacks gave her a look and went, "Mmmm-hmmm."

"But maybe you could tell me why they went to all this effort. It's not like there's a complete lack of alcohol if you know who to ask."

"There's less than you'd think these days," Stacks said. "Even the swill that Czech guy makes is going for two or three Snickers for half a liter. It's price gouging if you ask me. Don't even ask about the Athosian stuff, you could get a blowjob for less."

"Blowjobs are an easily renewable resource." Laura thought about it for a minute, then asked, "So who else knows about this?"

"Tolley told me, and I told you, and if they know what's good of them everyone else involved is keeping their traps shut. Palmer got a little singed, but it's nothing the corpsman can't take care of."

"Thank God for that. If Command got wind of this, the Colonel might have to take notice and you know how he gets if he has to be a hard-ass. Not to mention how Gunny would skin them alive and wear their skins around for the encouragement of the others."

Stacks nodded. "Both of which I reminded them of. Shame and fear are powerful motivators."

"Okay, so here's what we're going to do. The way I see it, we'll all be better off if you and I keep control over the kids' booze supply. It'll keep them happy and out of mischief. I'll talk with Parrish and Kanaan about getting something worked out. Between the two of them, they've got to know something about brewing and distilling."

"A bit of an irregular solution, ma'am, but I can see the logic," Stacks said. "But what if one of them says something to Major Lorne?"

Laura snorted. "They wouldn't break confidence without a good reason, but it doesn't matter anyways. There's no way he didn't know about this operation from the moment it started. I swear, the man's psychic. I think Lorne will be alright with it as long as we keep things low-key and tightly controlled."

"I appreciate your confidence in my omniscience and benevolence, Lieutenant," Lorne said over their radios. "I'll want an informal proposal for your little bootlegging operation by 2100. Carry on."

Laura and Stacks stared at each other for a minute. Eventually she asked, "Did you have your radio on, Stacks?" even though it was a kind of stupid question to ask a former recon marine.

"No, ma'am," he answered. "You?"

"Nope." Laura glanced around the room, but there was no sign of any surveillance equipment and she knew they barely had enough to cover a few vital areas, never mind random unimportant rooms in quarters. She supposed there was no point in wondering how Lorne found out anything in this city. "Staff, get our morons in here to clean up. If you need me, I'll apparently be spending my afternoon chatting with a botanist."


End file.
